Ideas emerge from plays – not the other way around.
Words as tools of imagery in motion. Words as living incantations and not as symbols.
Living, breathing words as they hit the air between the actor and the audience actually possesses the power to change our chemistry.
Language seems to be the only ingridient that retains the potential of making leaps into the unknown.
Language can explode from the tiniest impulse. Words are not thought, they’re felt. They cut through space and make perfect sense without having to hesitate for the “meaning”.
I begin to get the haunting sense that something in me writes but it’s not necessarily me.
The real quest of a writer is to penetrate into another world. A world behind the form.
Myth speaks to everything at once, especially the emotions. By myth I mean a sense of mystery. A character for me is a composite of different mysteries.
Writing is born from a need. A deep burn. If there’s no need, there’s no writing.
The more you write, the harder it gets, becuase you’re not so easily fooled by yourself anymore.
Writing becomes more and more interesting as you go along, and it starts yo open up some of its secrets. One thing I’m sure of, though. I’ll never get to the bottom of it.
excerpted from “Language, Visualization and the Inner Library”, first published in The Drama Review, vol. 21, nº4 (December 1977)
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